One Corner
by Chirugal
Summary: When Abby asks if she can decorate Gibbs' place for Christmas, he tells her she can have one corner of one room. Her choice of corner isn't what he expects... My 2010 entry for the Secret Santa exchange on NFA.


**Title**: One Corner**  
Rating**: NC-17**  
Spoilers**: Slight mentions of Abby's father as confirmed in _Broken Arrow/Enemies Domestic_, season eight. Plus a little reference to _Witch Hunt_, season four.**  
Summary**: Abby is only allowed to decorate one corner of one room of Gibbs' house for Christmas. Which corner will she pick?

**Author's Note**: Written for Jo.R for the NFA Secret Santa exchange 2010. Now the reveal is over and done with, I can post it elsewhere! And hence my complete failure to finish _Ebony and Amber _tonight can be overlooked. XD

* * *

"Abbs? You okay?" The lab is too quiet, and Gibbs can tell from her slumped shoulders that something is bothering her.

"Gloria can't make it up here. She has a friend who's really ill, and she might not see the New Year. She wants to stay near her for Christmas." She offers him a half-hearted smile. "It's okay… I'm just a little sad. I'll get over it."

He kisses her cheek, knowing how close she and her mother have become since her father's death. "You said you had something for me."

Abby nods, her back straightening as she looks through the open programs on her computer for the result she wants. "Yeah. I was looking at the cold case ballistics again, and I noticed…"

For a few minutes, it's all business between them, and he focuses on her words, making mental notes here and there. Then she's done, and a little melancholy creeps back into her expression.

"What are your Christmas plans now?" he asks.

Abby looks around at the decorations festooning her lab, from the black synthetic Christmas tree in the corner to the fairy lights strewn across the top of her plasma screen. "I might spend it with the Major," she says lightly, trying to gloss over her disappointment.

"The hell you will." He hands her the remote control for her stereo, then touches her shoulder briefly. "You're spending it with me."

He's only taken a step when she halts him by calling his name, and she smiles with a mix of gratitude and mischief. "Can I decorate your place?"

The thought of the entire house decked out makes him wince. "You get one corner of one room. That's all."

Her smile becoming a beam, she hits the play button on the remote, and he goes on his way, suppressing a smile of his own as a wave of her usual noise follows him to the corridor.

* * *

Abby spends Christmas Eve running around the Navy Yard in a red mini-dress lined with white fur, distributing cookies and gifts amongst her colleagues. Tony and McGee spend a lot of time gazing after her with faraway expressions on their faces, but it's not their reactions she's seeking.

She wasn't counting on Vance's disapproval, either, but when she spins away from Ziva's desk into his path, he frowns at her. "Miss Sciuto."

"Merry Christmas, Director." She keeps her exuberance in check, sensing that hugging him would be an overstep.

"I thought we'd discussed the dress code issue."

Together they look down at her outfit, and Abby scuffs a foot against the carpet uncomfortably. "Is it the skirt length, or the fact that it's a costume?"

"Mainly, it's the skirt."

She tugs at the hem of the dress, as if that will magically allow it to cover a higher percentage of her thighs. Bending over to do so, however, results in her flashing an extra inch of skin at Gibbs and Ziva, who are seated behind her. "Sorry. It's Christmas Eve, and I kinda get over-enthusiastic…"

Vance allows a small smile past his bureaucratic attitude, telling her, "Right now, you're distracting most of my male employees, and maybe even some of the women."

Abby glances over at Tony, who grins widely; McGee, who gives a slightly embarrassed shrug; Ziva, who rests her chin in her hand with a flirtatious wink; and Gibbs…

Her skin heats as he gives a slow half-smile, one eyebrow rising ever-so-slightly; then he shakes his head and returns to his report. How can she spend tonight sleeping under the same roof as him, now that she's seen that? Okay, so the whole idea of this outfit was to see if he was interested, but she expected to have to check in with Ziva later to draw her conclusion.

Shoving aside that whole train of thought, she turns back to Vance. "Point taken. I'll go back to my lab."

"Head on home as soon as you finish any high priority tests," the Director says. "I know you've put in the overtime to deserve it."

Nodding, she flees in the direction of the elevator, seeking solitude to process what she's just witnessed. Once she gets back to her computer, she sends a short email to Ziva, who arrives at the lab a few minutes later.

"Am I right?" It seems like a stupid, obvious question after what she just saw, but Abby doesn't want to risk being wrong. Not at this time of year, and not with what she has planned.

Laughing softly, Ziva nods. "I was watching him when you bent over to pull down your skirt. If he was not interested, he would not have swallowed so hard and looked away. He was definitely having inappropriate thoughts."

Abby bites her lip. "Wouldn't that just make him your typical guy, though?"

Ziva's grin is wicked. "I am no profiler, but I have spent a fair amount of time with Gibbs. He noticed how distracted Tony and McGee were before Vance did, and if it was just a pretty girl we were investigating, he would have reprimanded them."

When Abby attempts to interrupt, Ziva holds up a hand, continuing, "Yes. Even if it was a pretty, _redheaded_ girl. As it was… he was too busy watching you out of the corner of his eye to say anything to them, and he did not ask you to come back down here."

"I'm scared, Ziva," she confesses. "I mean, I _think_ he wants me. But I thought that back when I was dressed as Marilyn Monroe for Halloween, and I called him _Mr. President_. I mean, what more could I do? For a moment, I thought that was it; that he knew how I felt; I had made my move and it was his turn. But he never moved, and now I don't know…"

"Trust me, Abby. I was watching him the second you walked into the bullpen in that dress. He wants you. He will just require some… persuasion."

Abby takes a deep breath, then offers her a shaky smile. "Persuasion, huh? That's part of the plan."

* * *

Gibbs leaves the Navy Yard around an hour after Abby, who drops by his desk to tell him she'll 'meet him under the mistletoe'. What that means, he's not exactly sure. Part of him can't help but hope for the impossible, but by this point, he's made his peace with his unfulfilled desire for his forensic specialist.

No matter how short her skirt is.

When he gets home, Abby's car is parked out on the street, but the living room is dark, and so is the basement. Where exactly has she chosen to decorate?

Gibbs follows the sound of Christmas carols upstairs and halts in the doorway of his bedroom, struck speechless.

Abby has pushed his bed from its usual position into the corner of the room, and is sitting cross-legged in the middle of his mattress, absorbed in a book. She's spread a Christmas-red blanket across his bedspread, and the steady glow of fairy lights joins the bedside lamp's soft illumination of the room.

And – god help him – she's wearing the same Christmas dress that's been titillating him all afternoon; the one with the barely-there skirt and the neckline that's only a fraction of an inch away from being indecent.

Her message is clear; there's no way this is a friendly gesture. It's obvious that Abby is his gift this Christmas, if he wants her. And although rule twelve is one he swore he'd never break again, his craving for her is increasing by the second.

He clears his throat, and Abby looks up, startled. "Hi."

What else can he say right now? "Hi."

She sets her book aside and clicks off her music, then rises from the bed with a self-conscious smile. He can sense her nerves, and can't help but smile back as she approaches. Even when she looks her most alluring, she still displays none of the arrogance his ex-wives had when they put their minds to seducing him.

Coming to a stop only a foot away from him, Abby points upward. Gibbs follows her gaze to the sprig of mistletoe at the top of the doorframe, and then back down at her hopeful expression.

"Merry Christmas, Gibbs." Her voice is a husky, Southern-tinged murmur, and it tempts him more than the dress and the décor combined.

"Abby…" He shouldn't. He's been burned too many times as a result of rule twelve, and adding Abby to that count is the last thing he should be pondering, no matter how much he wants her.

Seeing the conflict waging within his mind, she takes his hand in hers and kisses it, then turns it over to press her lips against the underside of his wrist.

He closes his eyes, allowing him to seduce her; at this point, he'd have to want to resist in order to pull away, and there's no part of him that harbours that impulse. Her tongue lightly brushes the sensitive pulse-point, and he puts out his free hand to the doorframe, steadying himself.

She'd have to be blind to miss the effect she's having on him, and she steps in closer, sliding a hand into his hair and purring her approval when he wraps his arms around her waist.

"You been naughty or nice this year?" he breathes into her ear, and she shimmies against him, sighing against his lips as he cups her ass in his hands, drawing her even nearer.

"I get the feeling I'm about to be very, very naughty-" Her words end with a cry of relief as he kisses her, slow and deep, putting everything he has into it to make up the ground that he's lost.

She melts against him, her final reservations crumbling to nothing, and kisses back with a playful hunger that makes him forget everything but the moment. He lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, breaking the kiss to give him a wicked smile.

"How long have you been planning this?" He carries her across the room and sets her down on the bed, where her dress blends in with the colour of the blanket.

She tugs him down with her, allowing him to kick off his shoes while she strips off his suit jacket. "This exact scenario? Ever since you invited me over for Christmas…"

Gibbs watches her click off the bedside lamp, leaving the multi-hued fairy lights to cast their glow across her skin. "And in general?"

Abby unbuttons his shirt slowly, her focus on her fingers, and he nuzzles her neck gently while he waits for her answer. "How long have I wanted you? Years and years and years and-"

He interrupts her with another heated kiss, his thumb brushing her nipple through her dress, hard enough to make her sigh again. "And you didn't think I needed to know about this?"

She trails kisses over his shoulder, her hands busy with his belt. "I gave you like a million clues. You're the agent… you're supposed to put this stuff together."

Gibbs opens his mouth to retort, but forgets what he planned to say when her warm fingers slip inside his pants. With a low growl, he rests his head on her shoulder, at the mercy of her deft touch. "You keep that up, Abbs, and this is gonna be over soon…"

She tightens her grip ever so slightly, and smothers his groan with a brief, hard kiss. "Oh, you wish…"

It takes effort to get his mind on track, but he manages it, unzipping her dress, unsnapping her bra and then skating his fingers down the smooth skin of her back. Abby shivers, her focus wavering a little, and he pulls the dress up over her head, taking the bra with it and then pushing her gently horizontal.

While he leaves kisses in a meandering path over her throat, shoulders and breasts, she stretches out like a contented cat, gasping as he teases each nipple in turn with his tongue. She grinds her hips up against him, and he lightly rubs his fingers over the soft, damp material of her panties, trying to ignore the part of him that demands that he take her _right now_.

Abby moves in time with his fingers, pressing harder against him, and he stills his movements, allowing her to control the position and intensity of the friction. Her murmurs of wordless pleasure drive him half-crazy, and he tugs down her panties, then strips off the remainder of his own clothing before resuming his caresses of her beautifully tattooed body.

She's so wet for him that his self-control begins to fray, but he keeps himself in check a while longer. She clutches his shoulder as he strokes between her thighs again and again, her body growing tenser by the second as she breathlessly directs him.

"Want you… inside, now… Please, please, please-"

He doesn't need any further encouragement, guiding himself inside her and growling satisfaction when she arches up, taking him in all the way. The sensation is indescribable, and he moves instinctively, taking her slow, hard and deep, then faster as her cries become more urgent, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

She trembles against him at the end, her release strong and completely silent; she's forgotten how to breathe. He doesn't last much longer; the feel of her powerful climax around him is almost enough on its own. They wind up clinging together in the afterglow, overheated and struggling for oxygen.

Abby kisses him again, then; dry-mouthed from the exertion, but utterly contented. "Too good," she mumbles against his neck, and he smiles into her hair, stroking his fingers down her side.

Exhausted or not, she squirms at the tickling touch. "Giiiiibbs!"

She's fairy-lit, sleepy and smiling, and he presses an affectionate kiss to her temple, telling her, "Gonna guess we're both off Santa's list this year."

"Or maybe we're very, very good at being very, very bad," Abby points out. "So what do you think of my decorated corner?"

"Could use a little coffee. Other than that..."

"And Caf-Pow!. I could murder some caffeine right now. And maybe some pizza. Do they do turkey pizza?"

They lie together for a little while longer, until their respective cravings become stronger than the satisfied languor that keeps them bed-bound. When they finally get up and re-dress, Gibbs heads downstairs first to set his coffee brewing. Abby lingers in the room for a few moments longer, pulling down the mistletoe from the top of the doorframe before following.

Christmas has only just begun.

_END._


End file.
